


Eye on the Prize

by missparker



Category: Big Bang Theory
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-03
Updated: 2010-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:36:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missparker/pseuds/missparker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere, somehow, there's another universe where Penny did not  just have a sex dream about Sheldon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eye on the Prize

Somewhere, somehow, there's another universe where Penny did not just have a sex dream about Sheldon. In this awesome, alternate universe, Penny doesn't even know Sheldon, never entered a doomed relationship with Leonard, never took apartment 4B in Pasadena, never left Omaha. She wakes up to fields of long, rippling grass, to her horse in the stables, to this other, more perfect life.

Something is seriously wrong with her. She's had sex dreams before, of course, but those were normal! They starred George Clooney or Chris Pine or Paul Rudd! She's never even had a sex dream about Leonard, about any boy she's ever dated. In fact, this is the first sex dream she's ever had featuring someone she knows in real life and it is deeply, deeply disturbing that the man in her dream was Sheldon.

She should have never taken him to Disneyland. She should have never fixed him a spaghetti dinner after that. She should definitely not have spent three hours with him on her couch leveling up in Age of Conan last night. (She'll maybe never catch up with Sheldor, but Queen Penelope is still a force to be reckoned with thanks to Sheldon's help.)

In the shower, she tries to talk her brain out of any more funny business. The Sheldon from her dream wasn't even anything like real life Sheldon! Other than his appearance, dream-Sheldon had mad skills that real-Sheldon couldn't possibly possess. The things that dream-Sheldon could do with those long, slender fingers was...

No! Bad Penny! This is exactly the sort of psychotic train of thought her brain needs to avoid. Sheldon doesn't even like girls, had never even kissed one (Leonard's mother aside - gross) so the chance that Sheldon is some sort of idiot savant in the sack is... could it be less than zero? What_ever_.

Penny blow dries her hair in her bra and panties and then pulls on her jean skirt, pretending that she doesn't see that gravy stain near the pocket or the streak of ketchup on the hem. Her yellow sweater doesn't exactly smell daisy fresh either. Laundry is in order, especially after the double she was working today.

She presses her ear to the door making sure no one is in the hall and then she darts down the stairs. She could avoid Sheldon for a couple days until her stupid, useless subconscious gets its act together. Better yet, she could tell one of the guys that she had a scratchy throat and Sheldon would do all the avoiding for her. And who said she isn't a genius?

When she gets back to the building, she is exhausted. There used to be a time when Saturday nights meant drinking, parties, her friends, and cute guys but now she is sitting on the steps, trying to drum up the energy to at least make it up the stairs to her apartment. She sees Mrs. Martinez and her whiny daughter on the street, headed for the door. Yep, time to go upstairs.

She is blearily trying to fit her key in the lock when the door to 4A opens and Sheldon appears with his laundry basket. Of course - Saturday night.

"Hello, Penny," he says. She looks at him, looks away quickly, the dream still fresh in her mind.

"Hey Sheldon," she says. Not only is she embarrassed by the dream and exhausted from work, but now she has to spend more time with him in the laundry room? Why is her life so stupid?

Unless...

"Hey, Sheldon, would you do me a favor?" she asks. He remains impassive, lingering at the top of the stairs. "Could I just toss my work uniform in with your load?"

"You want to what?" he asks, clearly shocked.

"You know, that way I don't have to do a whole load, I can just..." Why did she think this would work? She's definitely not a genius.

"Your uniform is white, yellow, and denim - those require three separate loads, none of which are this load of dark t-shirts," he says.

"It's fine, I usually just toss 'em all in together," she tries but this brings out one of his facial ticks and she holds up her hand in defeat. "Never mind." She turns back to the door and gets it open.

"Give them to me," Sheldon says, behind her. She turns back.

"Really?" she asks hopefully. He nods once, like a prisoner accepting his sentence. "Oh my god, thank you! One sec..."

She strips quickly in her room and pulls on sweats and a t-shirt before balling up the stupid, filthy uniform in her hands and rushing back to the hall. He's waiting by her door now and she drops her clothes on top of his.

"Thank you so much," she says. "I owe you one."

"I know," he says and disappears down the stairs.

She's asleep on the couch, her Cheesecake Factory dinner half-eaten and forgotten on the table in front of her. Sheldon's unique knocking wakes her.

"Who is it?" she mumbles sarcastically to herself.

"It's Sheldon Cooper," Sheldon says through the door. She gets up and her whole body is sore. A glance at the clock tells her it's almost eleven, which means she has to be back at work in less that twelve hours. She opens the door. Sheldon is standing with her clean uniform folded and what looks to be ironed (score!) in his hands.

"Here you go," he says, extending those long arms out. She'd never really noticed his forearms before, the sort of wiry muscles underneath pale skin.

She swallows and takes the clothes.

"Thank you," she says. "It means a lot that you broke your laundry sorting rules for me."

"I most certainly did not," he says. "I simply washed your pieces by hand."

It takes her a moment to fully comprehend the kindness of the act.

"Oh," she says, hugging them to her chest. "Wow, that's amazing."

"The super collider is amazing," he says. "This is laundry."

When he's gone, she presses her face into the clothes and breathes deeply. The clothes smell fresh and faintly of across the hall. Her detergent is flowery, but this is like home, sort of, like clothes dried on the line.

She dreams of Sheldon again, but in this dream, they are riding horses, flying through the fields, the air sweet like spring. In the dream, Sheldon doesn't look ridiculous in the cowboy hat, doesn't cling to the horse in terror or recoil in fear. When he rides, his back curves over the horse as if he is whispering secrets into the animal's ear.

The guys come into the restaurant Tuesday night like they always do. It isn't busy and for once, their service comes easy. She knows exactly how to place Sheldon's order, know to double check it in the kitchen before taking it out onto the floor. In fact, she hardly really has any sort of memorable interaction with them until she drops off the check. Sheldon waves her back almost immediately.

"You forgot my barbecue burger and my beverage," he says, handing the checkbook back to her.

"No," she says, pressing it back down to the table. "Sheldon's is on me tonight."

She walks away, ignoring the curious protests of the other guys. When she gets to the host stand, she glances back at the table. The other guys are still talking and reaching for their wallets but Sheldon is just sitting, staring down at the dark wood of the table, one corner of his mouth curled up in, what would be on any other person, a smile.

"You know those guys request you every single time?" the host says. "I tried to give them to Angela and the tall one about pitched a fit."

"Yeah," she says. "I don't mind. They're my friends."

It's weird how used to the dreams she gets. They don't happen every night and they're not always sexual - but sometimes they are. When she wakes up from a dream that features Sheldon but is just a normal, run of the mill dream, she has to remind herself not to be disappointed. That Sheldon is her friend and wouldn't appreciate her having these kind of thoughts about him.

Going to bed earlier has nothing to do with anything. She's just tired.

When Leonard goes to a conference in Arizona ("Child's play," remarks Sheldon), the guys don't really come over just to hang out with Sheldon in 4A. So it's just Penny and Sheldon for three days. Sheldon sends her a text message offering to make her dinner. After a moment's hesitation, she accepts. He's being polite, nice even, and he doesn't deserve to be punished for her hormone-soaked brain.

How hard up must she be to dream about Sheldon (and _only_ Sheldon) in bed for over a month. Right? Crazy. Just... ugh. She hates herself. Every time she wakes up all hot and bothered she feels like a creepy pervert. At least George Clooney is a playboy who oozes sex appeal - Sheldon is just... he's Sheldon. He's an innocent. He just wants to work and while she doesn't exactly understand that, she respects it. Or, at least she thought she did.

Somehow this is all Leonard's fault. If he hadn't pursued her, she wouldn't be such good friends with them, would've never warmed to Sheldon and they'd still just be the weirdos across the hall. There's that other, perfect, alternate universe again, slipping quietly away.

Sheldon makes southern comfort food and it's pretty amazing. The chicken comes out perfectly, golden brown and crispy. He makes cornbread, green beans with big hunks of bacon and so much salt that any nutritional value is long gone but it's so tasty that for once she doesn't even care about her figure. Most of her girlfriends are vegans or at least vegetarians - for their health or for the planet or maybe just to feel superior but screw that, she thinks. Bacon!

"I didn't know you could cook like this," she says.

"Cooking is science," he says. "I'm very good at science." He pauses for a beat. "Also, I'm from Texas." Penny wonders why they hell they've been eating her cooking for so many weeks.

"Will you teach me?" Penny asks. "Can you show me how to cook like this?"

And there it is again, that little curlicue almost smile - a subtle indication that Dr. Sheldon Cooper, Ph.D, is pleased.

Penny draws the proverbial short straw once more. It is her cosmic fate, she suspects, some punishment for a previous life of debauchery and shame. Why else would she be alone in her car with Howard Wolowitz? They're going on a 7-11 run - Slurpees and beer. The A/C in the building has been out for almost two days and it's miserable. Almost as miserable as the Stargate Atlantis marathon she somehow got roped into. Battlestar Galactica is one thing - hello! Lee Adama is super hot! - but this is just sci-fi drivel. It's better than hanging out alone in her own stifling apartment, though. At least, she thinks it is.

"So," Wolowitz says, his creepy intonation already kind of pissing her off. It's too hot for that creepy little troll to be hitting on her.

"Careful," she says. He seems to reconsider things and then tries again.

"Can we talk about Sheldon?" he says. As long as they weren't talking about Wolowitz, she guesses.

"What about him," she asks.

"Raj is still blinded by his culture and Leonard, where you're concerned, is just plain blind, but I see what's been happening, Penny," he says.

"What?" What! What could he possibly mean by that?

"Dinners, learning to cook, Age of Conan..."

"Humans eat food," she says, flicking on her blinker aggressively. "And play video games." The bright lights of the 7-11 beckon her into the parking lot. She's going to buy _so much_ beer.

"Sheldon is... he doesn't know, Penny. You could give him everything but he won't ever even notice."

"Howard," she says. "We're just friends. It's Sheldon for Christ's sake."

"Okay," he says.

"Sheldon needs a friend who isn't mean to him. Who doesn't judge him, who lets him just be Sheldon," she says. "I'm trying to be that for him."

"But why?" Wolowitz asks.

"Because," she says. They're now just sitting in the car now outside the store. "What if he wins his Nobel Prize and realizes he doesn't have anything left?"

"That's a long time to wait," he says.

"I know." She does know. But somehow, it doesn't seem to matter anymore. There are guys like Kurt - beautiful specimen of a man but dumb as a post, and there are guys like Leonard who on the outside seem different but on the inside are still just looking out for number one, but there aren't guys like Sheldon. There's only Sheldon, only his beautiful mind. Isn't that something worth waiting for? Even... even if she never really stops waiting?

When they get back to the apartment, she sends Wolowitz up and stays down on the street with her bright red Slurpee. She sits on the curb and watches the cars go by, the people trying to seek a little relief from the heat like her, standing outside and laughing. She can hear, in the distance, someone playing the guitar. She misses the long summer nights of Nebraska, the twilight lingering for hours, the big bonfires with her friends.

"Penny?"

She turns around to see Sheldon in the door of their building.

"What are you doing? Are you all right?" he asks.

"Yeah," she says. It'd be nice if he came and sat next to her, but Sheldon won't sit on a sidewalk, no way, no how.

"We switched to playing Halo," he says. "It's not Wednesday but Leonard was bored."

"Okay," she says.

"Are you coming in?" he asks with a note of impatience in his voice now.

"In a minute," she says. She realizes after a moment, though, that he isn't going to go back up without her so she stands up and brushes off the seat of her pants with her hand. He seems relieved and holds open the door for her.

She almost weeps for the potential that is Sheldon Cooper. Tall, attractive, brilliant, and often polite to a fault as long as he is the only one speaking but... no. Waiting is waiting.

"How close are you to that Nobel Prize?" she asks, climbing the first step.

"Closer everyday," he says. "Why?"

"I just really want you to win it," she says.

"I do too," he says, surprised. "You know, Penny, you turned out to be an excellent friend." She has to smile at this.

"Will you promise me something?" she asks.

"Perhaps, depending on what it is," he says which is the kindest response she could expect from him.

"When you win the Nobel Prize, will you take me as your date to the ceremony?" she asks. He pauses - they're just outside the apartment door. He tilts his head, thinking.

"Yes," he says. "I promise."

Penny enters the apartment smiling, certain that that day will come.

And on that day, she is gonna look _smokin_'.


End file.
